Our Outlook

Lord of my life and righteousness,
Saviour immortal mine,
My weakness freely I confess,
Tho’ feebly do my words express
My need of power divine.
Beset by foes on every hand
Who heavenly light despise,
Who have Thy name unblemished banned,
Who Thy life-giving truth withstand,
To Thee I lift mine eyes.
Not that I look for betterment
Of things around me here,
For fruitless has Thy love been spent
Upon a world still blindly bent
Upon its curst career.
For Thee I look, Thine advent wait,
This earth no peace can know
Until Thou dost in glory great
Come forth, by judgment to debate
The cause of right below.
But ere that day when Thou shalt show
Thyself in kingly guise,
Thy touch of power Thy Church must know,
That ends forever all her woe,
Her tears forever dries.
Therefore ’tis not to part with this
My earthly tent I long,
Not by the unclothed state, I wis
Not by that door to perfect bliss,
Enter the blood-washed throng.
Tho’ surely good indeed it were
To drop this mortal coil,
And like a bird freed from the snare
Arise to meet Thee in the air,
Where come nor tears nor toil.
But better still to wait the day
When in Thy love’s great might,
Without monarchial display,
In secret Thou shalt call away
Thy Bride to realms of light.
Our bodies moulded like Thine own
Fit for that heavenly land,
Before the living Father, known
In love, which by Thy cross was shown,
In that same love to stand.
To be with Thee, Thou risen Lord!
To see Thee as Thou art:
This blessed hope, so long deferred,
But founded on Thy faithful word,
Still cheers the drooping heart.
The Spirit and the Bride say, COME!
Thou wilt not these deny,
Thy blood-redeemed invoke Thee from
Earth’s deserts and can not be dumb;
O hear the earnest cry.